


Pyres of Kaer Morhen

by Neeyla



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Knifeplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeyla/pseuds/Neeyla
Summary: Geralt doesn't show up one year to winter at Kaer Morhen. A distraught sorceress portals in to find Lambert alone at the keep and stays to figure out what happened to Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Lambert/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 61
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mention of a dead character! More warnings will apply for events down the line!
> 
> Before you continue please note a few things: first off, I haven't written anything in literally years. I have never ever written fanfiction, so if it sucks, it sucks. xD I'm sorry you had to read through it. Secondly, this is intended as a complete canon divergence. The idea was the lovechild of a tipsy conversation with a friend of mine about how good Yennefer and Lambert would be as a couple. The main reason it's being posted is to get feedback and constructive criticism, so fire away in the comments! :D (Pretty please, I'm in need of objective feedback here)  
> Also English is not my mother tongue, so if you see mistakes in spelling/grammar/phrase usage, let me know.

Kaer Morhen was dreadful in the winter. It was home, but it was dreadful: cold, drafty and empty besides for the four witchers. This year it was three. Snow had almost blocked the path to the keep and they were slowly beginning to lose hope they’d see Geralt this winter, but at least he was alive, if Dandelion’s songs were anything to judge by. That gave them some peace, but it also made them wonder if the witcher had decided to winter with his sorceress and was simply too busy riding that stuffed unicorn and forgot. It mostly made Lambert wonder. The other two witchers had long learned not to meddle in Geralt’s personal life especially when it came to Yennefer. Their relationship was tumultuous, to put it mildly. They were loud in both fighting and making up and the older witchers were simply too tired to get mixed up in that. They just let Geralt stoically endure what he brought upon himself and tried not to pour salt on his wounds whenever he came to Kaer Morhen heartbroken from yet another fight.

None of them understood that relationship, nor the fascination with the unicorn, a fixture in one of the rooms this past winter when Yennefer came to visit often. They were all simply content Geralt was happy. Vesemir and Eskel tolerated the sorceress and were able to have a conversation with her without it turning into a verbal fight within minutes. Lambert’s snappy attitude had found a match in hers; they were both bitter for their own reasons and she made for a great sparring partner. He enjoyed their fights, but he would never admit it to anyone.

They all had their duties in the keep in winter, but with one less, Geralt’s usual work had to be split between them. Hunting meant one would stay in the keep alone and while Lambert hated the keep, a reminder of his childhood in training for a fate unwanted, he wasn’t fond of frostbite, so he volunteered to stay behind. Vesemir was happy to get out of the keep and Eskel always talked a little too much for Lambert’s liking in the first days after coming to winter at Kaer Morhen. Lambert just wanted to get sloshed with his brothers and be left alone to nurse his hungover head the day after. Since one was missing for an effective sloshing and hunting stories drinking game, he decided to stay behind. Plenty of time to catch up with Eskel if Geralt didn’t show.

Lambert picked a book he found mildly interesting from the library and went to the kitchen. Vesemir had been cooking shortly before he left with Eskel that morning and the hearth was still giving off the rare heat even a fire almost never gave in Kaer Morhen. He dug up a bottle of vodka and poured himself a mug, not caring it was barely midday. The two witchers would be gone a few days and he intended to get drunk before doing any of the thousand and fifty three things Vesemir quickly assigned to him the moment he dismounted in the keep’s courtyard. 

He was half a bottle in and the heat was starting to give way to the wintry winds when his medallion trembled slightly. Lambert ascribed that to already getting tipsy from the vodka and continued reading only to feel the medallion tugging this time. He quickly grabbed one of his swords and exited the kitchen to the hall just as a portal opened in the middle of the room. 

Lambert expected a very grumpy Geralt and a sorceress telling him to stop his whining to step from it, but instead it was just a sorceress. A distraught looking sorceress. 

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he said with little enthusiasm while putting his sword away, realizing there wasn’t going to be a physical fight.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Lambert, but I have other things to do than bicker with you. Where’s Geralt?” 

“Not pretty boy’s babysitter. Did you let him out of your sight for too long? Maybe he found a sorceress or two. You know how he gets around your kind,” he remarked in hopes of eliciting a bellicose remark and starting a fight. The book was boring and he was in need of entertainment.

“Geralt’s just… gone.” 

Lambert eyed the sorceress doubtingly and considered if he wants to get involved in yet another episode of Geralt and Yennefer’s relationship drama.

“Well, if you made him ride that unico…”

“No, Lambert. Pay attention please. Geralt has disappeared. Kaer Morhen was my last resort,” she interrupted and her shoulders slumped a little. Lambert had never seen her this defeated. 

“Listen, witch, we last heard Geralt was alive and well, doing a contract on the Kaedweni border heading this way for the winter. If in the meantime he met a certain redheaded sorceress and went with her, well, then I can’t help you much.”

Yennefer didn’t pay attention to his jab. Instead she opened another portal, stepped through it and disappeared. Lambert let out a sigh and went back to the still somewhat warm kitchen to finish his bottle of vodka and the boring book. Looks like no entertainment other than that was available tonight. He was barely back at his seat when his medallion tugged again and he heard the faint whoosh of a portal opening. Some rustling of fabrics, a few muffled curses and heels tapping their way on the stone floor later, the kitchen door flew open and Yennefer walked in, sitting opposite Lambert. He didn’t lift his gaze from the book. 

“Where are Vesemir and Eskel?”

“Hunting.” 

“Great,” she said with annoyance, grabbing the bottle and chugging a couple gulps. Lambert looked at her with mild interest this time. She barely drank with them and when she did, it was because something unnerving was about to happen or had happened. Yennefer was obviously not herself. Lambert considered for a moment the only possibility why Geralt had suddenly vanished, but waved it off quickly, refusing to believe the legendary White Wolf had simply died in a swamp somewhere and that Lambert himself would outlive him. 

“Did you need company for the night?” Yennefer eyed the witcher with disgust. 

“Lambert, I’m not in the mood for childish innuendos.”

“I mean to talk. And drink,” he hurried to correct himself. Her eyes immediately got a softer look to them and she nodded faintly, but it was enough for him to catch it. 

“Now before we continue, I refuse to entertain the thought that Geralt has simply been defeated by a measly monster somewhere, so do not ever think that again in my presence. I have set up an alert in my house in Vengerberg if he happens to stop by there. Snow will soon block any path to this forsaken remnant and if there is another place he would want to winter, it would be my home.” She sounded confident, but Lambert could hear the undertone of worry and the slight tremble in her voice as she commanded him to not think of Geralt dead didn’t escape him either. For once he decided to just let her be and shut up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: knife play/smut at the end, mentions of character death!
> 
> Comments and criticism welcome!

For the next two days Yennefer and Lambert efficiently avoided one another in the huge keep. They politely passed each other once in the kitchen – one picking up a bottle of vodka, the other making a meal. None of them spoke of Geralt. None of them dared to. Lambert spent his time training and doing a couple tasks Vesemir had him do, while Yennefer spent most of her time locked in Geralt’s room or standing out on the balcony looking down the valley awaiting Geralt’s arrival. 

On the third day Lambert was in the yard, practicing with his sword, pirouetting left and right. He had been at it for a few hours now. This was the only way to ignore the disturbing image of Geralt bleeding to death that never left the back of his mind. He stopped for a moment and the image got more vivid than usual. Geralt’s white hair was stained with blood – his or his enemy’s made little difference right now. His face was eerily serene, as if he was simply asleep, but the gash across his middle… 

“Stop it right now!” Her voice echoed through the courtyard and startled the witcher. He had been so taken by the image of his dead brother that he never heard her come to the yard. “I told you never to think that of him.”

“What do you expect me to think, Yennefer?!” His breath was coming out in white clouds in the cold and his voice was sharper and louder than usual. “He doesn’t simply disappear never to be heard from again, does he? What other expla- ” 

With a few quick steps she stood in front of him and her small hand landed across his cheek with a resounding slap. Her eyes dared Lambert to continue talking. They stared each other down for a few moments, both breathing heavily, then Yennefer turned on her heels and marched back in the keep. Lambert heard her slamming the door to the room. 

Yennefer didn’t go out of Geralt’s room until late in the evening. Lambert was still downstairs with a book on his lap, but his unmoving eyes gave away he was lost in thought. He heard her come, but didn’t look at her. The sorceress walked by him and straight into the kitchen without so much as a glance his way. She came back with two bottles of vodka and two mugs and set them on the table between her and Lambert. 

“We drink, witcher. I do not wish to be alone with my thoughts right now, so tell me about your adventures,” she said, never looking at him, instead focusing on pouring a generous amount of drink in both mugs. She slid one across the table to Lambert and without waiting for him, lifted hers to her lips and drank a long sip. The possibility of his brother’s death terrified him and it was evident that despite all their quarrels, Yennefer cared deeply for Geralt too. Lambert drank. He could see why Geralt liked her; she was beautiful in her own way with her sharp nose and those curls. And her eyes, they were so unnerving, but you couldn’t stop looking at them. 

“Well?” She demanded in a louder voice, plucking Lambert from his thoughts. He closed the book with a loud thud and pushed it away, leaning on his elbows. Hearing about his adventures wasn’t something she had ever been excited about, but he told her nonetheless. He told her of bruxas and trolls. He stole a few of Eskel’s hunts and made them his own, just so he wouldn’t run out of stories to tell her while keeping them both away from the thought of Geralt. He told her stories, she drank and before they knew it, the bottles were empty. 

“So, Yennefer, I’ve been talking for some time now. Your turn. Tell me about that damned unicorn, what’s the deal?” Lambert leaned back crossing his arms in front of his chest. His eyes were glued on Yennefer, as she took a deep breath and looking in her mug, sloshing the liquid around, spoke.

“After a couple decades sex gets boring. Don’t act like you were born yesterday, Lambert.”

She shot him a daring look. He was staring at her. He leaned forward on the table, his face not giving anything away. He wasn’t as handsome as Geralt, she thought, and his abrasive attitude didn’t add any charm to his features, but he wasn’t unattractive. Yennefer allowed herself to read his thoughts at that moment not sure herself what she was looking to find in the witcher’s head. 

_Dead. Blood. A gash across his middle. Blood in his hair. Eyes closed. A swamp. Blood everywhere._

Yennefer lunged at Lambert over the table knocking him on his back and landing on him, holding his throat with one hand. Her breathing was labored, her other hand forming a dangerous looking orb, readying to hurl it in Lambert’s face. He was looking at her calmly. Why was he so calm, she could easily kill him? Her hand tightened around his throat and she shifted slightly. Lambert used her momentary imbalance to throw her on her back and press a dagger at her throat.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she spat out, but didn’t try to push him away. Lambert smirked considering if it was worth the trouble when he felt her ankles locking behind him and braced himself for some maneuver to escape him. Instead she pressed him further into her. 

Lambert’s hand moved to take the dagger away from her throat, but Yennefer’s caught his wrist. Without saying a word she pushed slightly and he obeyed, dragging the blade slowly over her skin. Yennefer let out a sigh, arching her back and closing her eyes. Lambert dragged the tip of the dagger slowly over the swell of her breasts, occasionally pushing down the hem of her white top. Yennefer’s sighs turned into quiet moans. She felt the blade pull on one of the strings holding her top at the middle of her chest and breathed out an encouragement. Lambert cut the string, eliciting a moan from her. 

Her hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders, stopping at his neck and pulling him gently to her. He didn’t hesitate, but bent down and kissed her. She felt his strong and warm body press into her and the contrasting cold of the blade drag over the exposed skin of her chest. 

“Continue,” she commanded between kisses and he didn’t need to be told twice. The blade quickly caught the rest of the strings one by one, cutting each one and with each one exposing more and more skin. He unlatched from her mouth and nudging her face to the side started kissing her neck, the blade traveling over her still-covered hardening nipples. She whimpered as the edge of the blade caressed one of her nipples and at the same time Lambert bit her neck gently. 

His lips moved down her neck to her sternum and the hand holding the blade slid to her leg, gently denting the skin on her inner thigh. Her hands moved from his neck down his back and tangled in his shirt, pulling it slightly. Too busy with the exquisite creature currently enjoying his blade and his mouth, he didn’t acknowledge her silent request until she verbalized it with a demanding “off.” As soon as he discarded his shirt, her sharp nails ran over his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake. He pressed the edge of the blade, now almost at her center, a little rougher in retaliation and she gasped. 

“You’re too dressed,” he mentioned matter-of-factly and brought the blade back to her heaving chest. She dared him with a look and he didn’t prolong his teasing. The dagger quickly ripped her top, leaving her half-naked on the floor under him. He looked down at her for a moment, taking in how beautiful she was, then dove down, capturing a hard nipple between his teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

Yennefer was half-awake when she heard the faint sound of galloping hooves. Her heart leapt in her chest. She pushed Lambert’s arm and it slid over her naked body, taking the animal fur along. Yennefer shivered as the cold air hit her body, but was preoccupied with the thought that this might be Roach. She kicked Lambert’s foot while casting a spell to clothe herself and spoke in annoyance.

“What use are your witcher abilities if the sound of hooves doesn’t wake you up.”

“You know firsthand the exact use of my witcher abilities, witch,” Lambert said with an obnoxious smirk, while getting up and gathering his scattered clothes. Yennefer scoffed and hurriedly ran her fingers through her hair, heading for the door. Just as she came out to the courtyard, Eskel and Vesemir were dismounting. As soon as they saw who is greeting them, they both looked confused by her presence. 

“Yennefer, what a pleasure to see you. How may we help you,” Vesemir, polite as always, greeted her. 

“Good to see you as well, Vesemir. I came here looking for Geralt. It seems he has vanished. If you don’t mind I have taken his room to wait for him. We have business to attend to, him and I.” 

Lambert chose this moment to loudly exit the keep, greeting the other two witchers. Yennefer rolled her eyes at the sight of him. Something seemed off to Eskel, but instead of commenting on it, he continued inquiring about his missing friend. 

“How do you mean vanished? Last we heard he was-” 

“At the Kaedweni border heading this way, I know, your _lovely_ brother here gave me the news. No one has seen him for some time and it’s already impossible to get to this keep.”

“Not yet, but it will be in a few days. Maybe you can portal us and we can look for him, see if his old age didn’t impact his skills to find his way.” Eskel saw Yennefer’s lips twitch slightly at the attempted joke. 

“I don’t know about you, brother, but I don’t intend to look for pretty boy until I eat. I’m sure he’s fine,” Lambert chimed in nonchalantly, as if he didn’t get into multiple fights with Yennefer over this the past few days. 

“How about you come and help carry the game inside if you want to eat at all,” Vesemir interrupted and Eskel barely contained his smile. Lambert sighed half-defeated, half-annoyed and joined Vesemir in tending to the horses and bringing the result of their hunt in. 

“You two seem to have everything figured out, so me and Yennefer will head inside, get a fire running and fix us some drinks,” Eskel said, gesturing for Yennefer to lead the way inside before Vesemir could task them with something. 

Eskel followed the sorceress into the main room. The heap of animal furs by the fireplace and the two empty bottles on the table next to it didn’t escape him. Not wanting to assume the worst of his brother, he innocently asked the sorceress how long has it been since she arrived. 

While not entirely fond of her presence and feeling slightly anxious by the reason she was at the witchers’ keep, Eskel continued an amiable conversation with the sorceress. Not one to do housework, Yennefer mostly used magic to move things around the kitchen, while Eskel started the fire. 

Not long after, Vesemir and Lambert joined them, carrying the game and the tree witchers started skinning and preparing the meat. Vesemir was a decent cook, according to Yennefer’s sophisticated tastes, and she didn’t meddle. Instead she sat at the table and gracefully accepted the mug Eskel passed to her. They quickly got engrossed in a conversation about herbs, ignoring Lambert and Vesemir. Soon enough dinner was ready and the four of them ate in relative silence. 

“That was some meal,” Lambert said, leaning back and patting his stomach. “Brother, how about we have a drink and play some Gwent? Been a while since I stole your carefully built deck.” 

Before Eskel could answer, Yennefer chimed in, “Excellent idea. Vesemir, if you would be so kind, I have some things to discuss with you. Perhaps we can go to the library.” Instead of waiting for a reaction, she got up and exited. Vesemir followed, telling Lambert and Eskel to clean up the kitchen before pouring themselves anything and Lambert made a face behind Vesemir’s back. 

“He’s right, you know, this table is a mess,” Eskel chuckled, picking up plates off the table and piling them. “How did you and Yennefer survive three whole days in one another’s company without killing each other?” His question was as much a joke as it was serious. 

“We efficiently avoided each other,” Lambert said nonchalantly while moving two of the four mugs from the table. 

“Mhm, I see vodka was involved in the avoiding,” Eskel answered not looking up from the pile of dishes he was moving. “I just hope for her sake you were the one who ended up asleep on the floor.”

Lambert hesitated a second before answering. “Of course, I would _never_ let a lady sleep on the floor. Now are we going to continue talking like a bunch of gossiping old ladies or are we going to drink and play?”

***

Yennefer couldn’t sleep. The bed was too big and too empty for her liking, the keep too cold to be warmed by the fire. For a while she heard Eskel and Lambert’s drunken exclaims echo through the halls, but they had died down some time ago and the only sound now was the howling wind. 

After dinner she had spoken with Vesemir who told her that Geralt was too close to home and if something had indeed happened to him, but he highly doubted it, Geralt was a skilled swordsman and one of the best witchers Vesemir had trained, word would have gotten to Kaer Morhen until now. Eskel had said that the path to the keep still isn’t blocked and won’t be for a few more days, so she’d wait a few more days. Then she’d take Eskel on his offer and portal them and they’d look for Geralt. But only Eskel, not Lambert. The thought of the younger witcher hovering over her, dragging that dagger over her skin invaded her mind, but now was not the time. 

She sat up, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the cold stone and a shiver ran through her and instinctively her hand reached for the warm coat she had brought with her. Yennefer put it over her nightgown and quickly slipped on her shoes, exiting the room and heading downstairs. 

To her surprise Lambert was sitting in the main room, seemingly not at all drunk. She looked around for signs of his drinking buddy and Lambert spoke without looking at her. 

“If you came down looking for entertainment, witch, you’re in luck; Eskel’s in his room sound asleep and it’s just us.” 

“I did come looking for entertainment, but you are most definitely not it, Lambert.” She delivered her words in a cold tone, surprising herself a little, considering just last night she was enjoying the witcher’s intimate company. 

“Didn’t enjoy our time together? Don’t pretend, it doesn’t suit you.” His words were meant as a jab, but the usual spirit and bite in his voice was gone. The thought he considered their drunken shenanigans to be a mistake ran through her head. 

“Whatever I did or did not do is over now. Our short-lived tryst was the fruit of vodka and concern and nothing more,” Yennefer’s voice came out a little too sharp than she intended it, but it also left no room for discussion. Lambert looked at her for the first time, studying her for a moment, then nodded and said, “For once I agree with you, witch.”

***

Eskel woke up with a full bladder. It was the middle of the night and he estimated it had been a couple hours since he had gone to bed after copious amount of vodka and a few games of Gwent that turned into their favorite story swapping drinking game and more vodka. Despite the alcohol dulling his senses a bit, he heard voices coming from the main room and shifted his focus on them. Quickly one of them stood out as Lambert’s and he wondered why his brother was still awake after all that drink. He listened more intently and quickly distinguished Yennefer too.

_“Didn’t enjoy our time together? Don’t pretend, it doesn’t suit you.”_

_“Whatever I did or did not do is over now. Our short-lived tryst was the fruit of vodka and concern and nothing more.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy did I struggle with this seemingly easy chapter! Keeping everyone in character is no easy work!


	4. Chapter 4

Eskel had busied himself with repair work ever since he had overheard Lambert and Yennefer’s conversation, avoiding both of them. Since then he had managed to finish work he would normally do in at least three days. As the day progressed, it started snowing lightly, but snowfall kept increasing steadily. Vesemir approached the younger witcher, examining the pile of swords on the table in front of him. “My boy, what is this urge to do work all of a sudden? I thought you and Lambert stayed late and made sure there’s significantly less vodka for the rest of us.” Eskel continued polishing the sword in his hands and Vesemir went on, “I know you worry about Geralt, but you shouldn’t. You know your brother well and you know he’s alright. You want to keep the gate open, but we should close it, tomorrow latest. This snowfall will be long and heavy.” The younger witcher nodded and said he’d do it once he finished polishing the sword. Vesemir pat Eskel on the shoulder and left the room, commanding Lambert to go help his brother. 

***

The snowstorm made it hard to see. If the path wasn’t one he had ridden on many a times and knew like the back of his hand, he would have been lost. The reins held tightly in his hands, Geralt urged the horse, “Come on, Roach, a bit more, then we’ll be home.” The horse neighed faintly in protest, but continued moving through the whirlwind of snowflakes. 

They rode in a slow pace, the witcher careful not to injure the horse. His eyes were searching for the outline of Kaer Morhen, nestled between the mountain peaks, on the horizon and soon enough even through the snowfall he could make out parts of the keep. He let out a breath, but refused to spur Roach to go faster. From experience he knew it was no more than a few hours until he reached the keep, even at this slow pace. He just hoped the other witchers didn’t close off the keep yet. Geralt smiled at the thought of how enraged Vesemir would be if he were to blast the gate open and how he’d make Geralt repair it. 

His thoughts shifted from work to the big fireplace in the main room of the keep and how much he’d like to sit by it with a bottle of vodka shared between him, Eskel and Lambert, telling story after story. To how he’d have to write to Yen and let her know he made it late this winter, but made it alive; how much he’d like to see her and hold her. Maybe she could portal to him, so they can finish their work and keep each other’s bed warm. 

Roach’s sounds of protest brought the witcher back to the snowy path just in time to take the last turn, the path made narrower and harder to navigate by the snow, before Kaer Morhen’s gate came into view. The witcher pat the horse on the neck for a job well done. Each step bringing him closer to the keep brought a bit of warmth and relief to Geralt and he allowed his grip on the reins to ease.

***

Vesemir and Eskel were out in the courtyard, preparing to close the gate, when movement in the snow caught Eskel’s eye. He looked in that direction and soon recognized a rider on his horse, both covered in snow, but somehow the rider more so. Only one person who would be up this path at this time of year _and_ who would make sure his horse got less snowed on than he did. Eskel called for Vesemir, informing him Geralt had come home.

As Geralt entered the courtyard, he slid off the saddle, quickly giving Eskel a hug and a pat on the back exchanging a greeting with his brother and then helped him close the gate. Geralt then turned to Vesemir and the older witcher pulled him in for a hug, patting him on the back and muttering a “welcome home.” Geralt wanted to bring Roach to the stables, but Eskel took her reins instead, informing Geralt there was someone waiting for him in the keep. 

“You could also use some food and warming up,” Vesemir said and Geralt didn’t protest. His last contract had been exhausting, had taken longer than the witcher expected and resulted in some injuries that slowed him down even more. By now he had almost fully recovered and the only sign of his struggle were a few fading bruises and his armor that needed patching up, but the delay meant the ride to Kaer Morhen was more taxing than usual. He shook the snow off his cape and entered the keep, content that his brother will take just as good care of Roach as he would. 

As soon as he stepped into the room, he familiar welcoming smell of lilac and gooseberries hit him. “Yen’s here,” he said surprised, to no one in particular. 

“She is. Showed up four days ago while Eskel and I were out hunting. Said she was looking for you and you had business to attend to, but I best let her do the talking. She’s upstairs in your room. I will tell Lambert you’re back and I expect both you and Yennefer down for dinner later.”

“Yen and Lambert were alone in the keep and didn’t kill each other? This is new,” Geralt retorted knowing how much they liked each other. 

“Indeed both of them are alive with no limbs missing and no injuries,” Vesemir laughed at Geralt’s remark, urging him towards the stairs to his room. “Now go see her.”

*** 

Geralt ran up the stairs as fast as his frozen legs would carry him. _Yen is here, Yen is here_. He smiled to himself as he took the last few steps before reaching the door to the room she had taken; his room. He knocked gently, expecting her voice to allow him entry, but instead the door opened just enough to show her face and Geralt found himself enveloped in her scent, drowning in her amethyst eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short and sweet, but I decided to stop torturing you and finally bring Geralt to Kaer Morhen. :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut, if you squint real hard and have a good imagination.

“Geralt, it was about time you showed up.” Her tone was somewhat curt, but Yennefer couldn’t hide her relief at seeing his face. The door remained opened only a little. 

“Can I come in, Yen? I do believe it’s my room after all.” A smile appeared on his face and it brought Yennefer back to reality. 

“Of course, my witcher,” she said, opening the door wide and stepping aside, so he could enter. Whenever she came to Kaer Morhen, his otherwise spartan room would suddenly fill up with all kinds of luxuries from expensive materials tailored into magnificent dresses to tiny vials full of potions and mixtures for gods knew what. And the unicorn, of course she brought it too, discreetly placed behind a beautiful room divider. He smiled at the all too familiar scene and turned around, grabbing the sorceress by the waist. Her hands came to rest against the still-cold and damp fabric on his chest and it was all the invitation he needed to envelop her in his arms and kiss her like it’s the last time he could do it.

She suddenly flinched away from him with a scowl. “Your nose is freezing, Geralt, I do not like to be touched with cold body parts.” 

Geralt chuckled at her remark and reluctantly let her go. “Alright then, I’ll run a warm bath and maybe you can join me there?” 

His suggestive smirk left her breathless for more reasons than one. Her witcher was back safe and seemingly unharmed, she should be happy. Yennefer willed thoughts of Lambert’s dagger and skilled tongue away and smirked back at Geralt, purring a “perhaps” that was enough to make him move faster.

*** 

Eskel took care of Roach, his mind repeating the words he’d overheard over and over again. He knew it wasn’t his place to meddle in this, but it hurt him to see how happy Geralt was that Yennefer was here when she was sleeping with Lambert behind his back. He trudged back in the keep, closing the heavy door behind him and shutting out some of the cold. Rattling and voices were coming from the kitchen and Eskel headed that way, expecting Vesemir and Lambert to have started on dinner already. 

“Did you hear, brother? Pretty boy’s back.” Lambert’s word sounded conflicted.

“Not only did I hear, but I saw him, brother. I’m glad he’s back,” Eskel said, biting his tongue not to elaborate. 

*** 

Dinner came and went, the three witchers and the sorceress all asking Geralt what took him so long and Lambert and Eskel didn’t fail to joke about Geralt getting old and rusty. Geralt was simply happy to be home with his brothers, Vesemir and Yennefer by his side. He ate and drank, enjoying the warmth of the hearth on his back and the feel of Yennefer’s small body pressed to his side, but the ride home had been long and he soon left his brothers, promising them to honor their drinking tradition once he had slept the road and the snow off. Vesemir followed him not long after, leaving Eskel and an awfully quiet Lambert behind to finish the second bottle they had opened at dinner.

“You suddenly went quiet. What’s on your mind, brother?” Eskel tiptoed around the question he really wanted to ask: why did you sleep with Yennefer? Lambert hesitated and Eskel’s composure crumbled. “I heard you and Yennefer talk last night. You have to tell him.” 

***

Yennefer was splayed on the bed, suddenly not minding the cold with Geralt between her legs. Tired as he was, he couldn’t get enough of his sorceress and he intended to show her exactly how much he missed her. Her mind kept playing images of Lambert and the damn dagger and that did more for her than Geralt’s skilled tongue.

*** 

“What should I say – I’m sorry we thought you were dead, got drunk and I slept with your lover?” Lambert downed the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle. 

“Is that the only reason why you slept with her or is there more?” Eskel’s tone was calm and quiet, but Lambert could tell his brother was not at all comfortable with everything going on. 

“I don’t know,” Lambert replied simply. “But even if there is, Yennefer doesn’t feel the same way, so what does it matter.” 

*** 

“Geralt, stop. It’s late, I’m cold and I’m tired and I just wish to sleep.” Yennefer pushed his shoulder with her calf and he emerged wiping his mouth with the back of his hand with a confused gaze.  
“This is a first. Is everything alright, Yen?” His voice was laced with concern and exhaustion. His thoughts were ecstatic and filled with her naked form before him. Yennefer was glad he couldn’t read her mind. Her thoughts were of daggers and viper eyes just like his. But not _his_. 

“Yes, Geralt. I’m just tired and you rode all the way from gods know where and you need rest. We have all winter to catch up.” She couldn’t even convince herself with those words, but he didn’t question her, nodding and gently putting the furs over her naked body before he slipped under them, pulling her into his arms, and fell asleep almost immediately. Yennefer stayed awake long after, listening to the sound of his peaceful breaths and the slow rhythm of his heart. 

*** 

Eskel and Lambert had long finished the bottle and opened another. They fell into a silence neither was sure how to break. Lambert took a deep breath and eventually spoke first. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“It might be a little too late for that, brother. You can’t go around all quiet for the rest of your life, all that bottled up sarcasm is going to kill you,” Eskel tried to joke, then went on with a more serious tone, “Tell him or I will. He has to know. The fool is so in love with her and he deserves to know if she’s toying with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the short and sweet delivery of drama.


	6. Chapter 6

“Dandelion,” the witcher slurred, “she hates me.”

Dandelion looked thoughtfully in his mug, eyes slightly unfocused from all the drink. “She doesn’t hate you. The witch just doesn’t know better, just like you.”

“Have I ever told you, you have a wise streak that shitty ale brings out in you, Dandelion?”

“You have. But we are almost out of ale and nowhere near done for. Maid,” the bard waved at the woman passing by, “bring us more!” 

Whenever they traveled together and had enough coin, they would pick an inn and get drunk, Dandelion would occasionally try to pick on the wrong woman and start a fight and Geralt would have to jump in and save his friend from trouble. Tonight was different. The witcher had met Dandelion shortly after a particularly gruesome break up where Yennefer simply disappeared with nothing but a note, leaving Geralt to brood. On the odd occasion, drink and all the trouble on his mind would loosen the witcher’s tongue and tonight was one of these occasions. Dandelion generously poured in Geralt’s cup.

“Geralt, whatever she may have done and however much I dislike her, you mean more to one another than you care to admit.” Dandelion took a long gulp from his cup and put it back on the table loudly. “Next time you meet, it will all be back to normal, just like that first night in Rinde, so cheer up.”

The two were so engrossed in their conversation, that neither of them paid heed to the man intently listening for what they would say next. Neither of them saw how his mouth twitched at the witcher’s next question.

“Do you believe in the gods, Dandelion?” 

“Why, yes and no. They have bestowed unto me the great gift of singing, but I have also oh so dearly paid for it!” Dandelion made an overly dramatic gesture Geralt didn’t pay attention to. “Does the mighty White Wolf believe in the gods?” 

“There are days when I wish I knew one for the sole purpose of wishing Yen away from my thoughts. But most days I thank all the gods for her. Today it’s the former.” 

The faint smile of the man grew into a wide grin. He drank his ale, paid his drink, got up and left the inn. Yes, he would grant his wish. He could use a witcher and this one might turn out to be exactly to his liking. Years later when he and Geralt would meet again in another inn, and Geralt would be looking for Yennefer, he would help him then too, only to require his services later on. 

*** 

The days at Kaer Morhen were short, dark and cold. The nights were even colder and Yennefer often found herself thinking of that night by fireplace in the main room. Geralt kept her warm enough, but he could not light the same fire in her as Lambert had done. She had thought about sneaking off to Lambert’s bed and almost did it once, but the damn door had made a sound loud enough to wake Geralt and she quickly abandoned her desires. 

The disagreements she had with Geralt over their task didn’t aid her in not abandoning his bed for Lambert’s. After a particularly long and draining argument Geralt stormed off to train in a remote part of the keep, leaving her wanting Lambert more than ever, partly to spite Geralt and partly to satisfy herself. Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir magically disappeared whenever they sensed an argument brewing and would stay that way until they were all sure it was over, but Yennefer had a good idea of where to look for the witcher she needed. She opened a portal with a flick of her wrists.

***

Lambert was used to his medallion humming with Yennefer in proximity, so when it hummed again he didn’t pay it any mind until the whoosh of a portal made him look. Out stepped Yennefer, hands in tight fists by her side as the portal closed behind her. 

“Do you have that dagger on you?” Lambert blinked at her, confused by her intrusion and question, then nodded. “Good,” she said, casting a spell Lambert realized just a moment later assured no one uninvited would hear or see them. 

*** 

“I thought this,” he waved nonchalantly over their naked bodies, “was over, a product of vodka and concern.” Yennefer untangled herself from his arms and quickly got dressed ignoring his presence. “I can’t pretend this didn’t happen, Yennefer. Geralt is my brother and while we share most things, women isn’t one of them.” She opened a portal and stepped in. 

***

Yennefer could hear voices from downstairs and assumed the witchers were enjoying their time together over drinks. At one point Geralt’s laughter echoed off the walls and she felt relief he was back and in better spirits. She soon ignored their unintelligible conversation and immersed herself in her books. 

*** 

“So brother, what kept you so long,” Eskel asked, downing the last of his vodka. “Landed in some fair maiden’s bed?” 

“The only fair maiden’s bed I’ve been landing in is Yen’s.” 

“We all know she’s no maiden,” Lambert interjected jokingly. Eskel shot him a glance Geralt missed tipping his mug up. 

“Maiden or not,” Geralt slurred a bit, “wouldn’t trade it.”

“Right, but we’re not here to talk about her.” Eskel tried to steer the conversation away from Yennefer and back to his brother’s adventures. “Last we heard you were at the Kaedweni border.”

“I was at the Kaedweni border alright, in the middle of a forest. Leshen contract, good coin. All was going good when a Fiend suddenly appeared. Those are some quick monsters for their size. I killed it, but it managed to wound me and I was in no state to ride on. Had to stay behind and heal. The contract took me four days to hunt down and complete, but the Fiend added two more to that and by the time I reached the pass to Kaer Morhen there was snow on the ground. What about you, miscreants, what stories do you have to tell?” 

They went on telling each other stories and laughing, emptying bottle after bottle and not bothering to count them. The subject of conversation shifted from monsters and the trade to women without any one of them noticing until Lambert went quiet. 

“Lambert,” Geralt tried his name around his drunk tongue, “who’s the lady that hath captured your heart so much, that she left you speeshless?” He looked at his brother with unfocused eyes and a tipsy smile on his face. Eskel suddenly felt sober and his gaze was busy inspecting the rest of the drink in his cup. 

“Yennefer. I slept with her.” Lambert said simply not daring to look Geralt in the eye. Eskel’s gaze shot up in time to see Geralt’s foolish drunk grin fall at Lambert’s serious expression as he finally understood his brother’s words.


End file.
